Jack Savage: A Spy Like No Other
by anotherhackwriter
Summary: He's not always the smoothest rabbit out there. Nor the best shot. But he's got determination in spades, and when an international criminal threatens to get Zootopia wiped off the map, the ZPD's got no choice but to turn to this dapper(ish) agent-and he's got no choice but to team up with ZPD's best officers and confront his history with this massive city. (PC: Zootopia team)
1. The Lines Are Drawn

There wasn't anything extraordinary about the casino that night. It wasn't like one of those resort casinos you'd find in Sahara across the pond, immaculately clean and desperately attempting to masquerade as a place for family-friendly fun. No, it was just about the opposite; that is, to say, it was more like one of those Sahara casinos in the 80s. _Opulent,_ sure, and well-maintained, hell, it even had huge chandeliers in the lounge area, but it left a thick layer of grime on your soul just walking in the place.

It was dimly lit, which may have had to do with the fact that half the staff and clientele were nocturnal. The lounge area was packed; about four feet from the bar, there was a table of four antelope socialites—probably from Zootopia, bloody tourists—snorting cocaine, and in the most obnoxious way possible, might I add. Giggling and yelling at the top of their lungs in lieu of a quiet conversation, which is how a _proper_ mammal does their cocaine here. Not, uh—not that I'd know anything about that. I wanted to give them a proper tutting, but their rhino bodyguards were visibly armed.

I walked into the lounge and went straight for the bar. The room went dead silent as everyone stared at me for a second, then went back to their drinks. I hopped into the oversized chair, eventually settling to such sit on the (massive) bar itself, and got the barman's attention. He was a black bear, which normally would spook a rabbit such as myself, but in my line of work I've dealt with worse.

"An' just wot is a wee thing like yerself doing here?" he demanded. _Here we go,_ I thought.

"Oh, just having a drink or two."

He moved in really close, staring me down. "Are ye? Because it looks as though ye're gettin' yer filth on me bar!"

"I'm—well, that's not really fair, see, I'm perfectly clean, and...I mean, chaps like me usually sit directly on the, uh, bar, when there's not any...you know, _appropriate_ seating around. I—It's really common, I, I mean, you do look like you're an experienced barkeep, surely you see this a lot, right?"

"We don't see a lot o' yer kind 'round here," he growled. The other patrons were starting to stare at the scene, which he noticed. "I don' wanna scare off me patrons. Boss'll kill me. Just behave yerself, _bunny,_ " he whispered with venom.

He backed away to normal. "So, what'll it be?" he asked in an overly cheerful voice.

"M—martini. Shaken, not stirred."

"Right away."

I smiled. _Handled it like a pro, Savage._ After at least ten minutes, he came over and poured the gin and vermouth into a martini glass right in front of me, making sure to look me right in the eyes as he stirred it for a good thirty seconds before walking off.

"Um, sir, I—I'm sorry, I asked for it shaken, not—"

"Bugger off!"

I frowned. I would _not_ be leaving a five-star review. But for now, booze is booze, so I decided to sip away in the meantime. After a few minutes passed, an arctic wolf came up and sat next to me.

"75," she instructed the barman, who nodded and promptly returned with a golden cocktail. Bastard.

"Sorry to be late, Savage," she said quietly, without looking at me.

"It happens, Howlton," I responded in turn. "The target's still in the casino, right?"

"Well...no. He left early before our teams could get into place."

"Son of a bitch! Do we at least know where he went?"

"We do. But we've got a small problem, a...well, a complication."

"Just what we need. What's happened?"

She sighed. "They found Timothy and Mikhail dead two hours ago."

My eyes widened. "WHAT?"

"HQ says their cover must've been blown. The target's on to us."

" _Damn._ A-are we aborting the mission?"

"That's just it. Last transmission we got from Mikhail said that the target just made a deal to sell three Scorpion missiles with biological warheads to an unknown buyer."

"We can't abort the mission now, then...any other information?"

"We have reason to suspect that the buyer is overseas."

"There's only one place overseas that'd be worth hitting..." It hit me. Zootopia. My eyes widened at the thought of what someone could do with that kind of firepower over there.

"Exactly. That's not the full story, though—"

"Well!" a loud voice behind us boomed. We turned around to see three angry-looking polar bears walking up behind us. "Jack Savage, the Queen's finest agent, in the flesh!"

"And you must be working for the fellow we're looking for?" I mused.

"A spy _and_ a comedian!" the middle one roared. "This is going to be a fun one..."

The five of us all drew our guns at the same time. The other patrons screamed and fled, some hiding under tables.

"Ye bastards take yer shite outside, yer scarin—" he began, only for the polar bears to drop him in a hail of gunfire mixed with a sickening crimson mist. It was a miracle I didn't piss myself in fear as the two of us took the chance to dive behind the bar and began returning fire. The three bears kicked over some tables to use as cover.

A bottle behind me exploded as a stray bullet struck it. I looked at Howlton, who seemed to be contemplating our next move.

"Any ideas, star soldier?" she asked.

"Hey, don't look at me. I was expecting a clean, quiet apprehension."

"Well, your expectations never seem to conform to reality, Jack. Now, what's the plan?"

"I'm going to sneak around to flank them. Give me some cover fire."

"You're gonna have to be fast, neither of us has a lot of ammo. I can't cover you for long."

"Do we ever?" I smiled. "Okay, on three."

1...2...3. She started firing at them as I fled from the bar and moved to the left side of the room, giving me a perfect shot at all three of them. I wildly fired my gun at them until I was out of ammo.

The room went dead silent. I looked at them. They were somehow unscathed, and now I was effectively unarmed. I think I saw one of the coked out antelopes that was directly across the room from me, in my line of fire, that I'd mentioned earlier; she was clutching her stomach...well, crap. I mean...one of the bastard polar bears must've shot her while I was attacking them! How despicable! Surely that's what happened. No, I'm sure it's what happened. Me hitting a bystander and not the actual target with seven shots? That's...well, ludicrous. I didn't hit an unintended target. I don't hit the wrong mammal, no, no...I had to steel my resolve.

In any case, they are looked at me for a good five seconds and began laughing before pointing their guns at me, spouting some nonsense about me pissing myself earlier and how it was glaringly obvious (which it wasn't, no such thing happened). I froze, not out of fear, but because it, well, it isn't sporting to take cover. Best to die like a gentleman, yes?

I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable, only to hear an extremely loud crashing sound. I opened my eyes to see the polar bears crushed by a massive chandelier. Evidently my barrage had struck the chain suspending it, weakening it enough to cause a collapse.

I walked over to the site of the crash, and kicked their guns away as they groaned in pain.

"I'm sure you were looking forward to killing us. You must be _crushed._ " They groaned even louder. I think I heard Howlton sighing too. Poor thing probably wanted the takedown for herself. The wounded antelope began crying.

"Howlton, call HQ—and get a bloody ambulance. These bastards shot that poor girl for no good reason!"

" _You_ shot her!" one of the wounded bears yelped in exasperation. "You had your eyes closed the entire time you were fir—"

"Nonsense, I won't listen to your desperate rationalizations."

"We didn't even notice the—"

"Shut up, criminal! Howlton! What's HQ say?"

"They're sending a team now," she said, emerging from the bar, "and they're sending ambulances. That was excellent thinking, using the chandelier for a non-lethal takedown so we can interrogate them later."

"Oh, stop it, it wasn't that special—"

"Are you kidding me?!" the same bear shouted. "He only hit the damn thing with blind luck! Literally, BLIND luck! He wasn't looking at us or even aiming! And it wasn't a non-lethal takedown! Boris is half _dead!_ " He started sobbing.

"Well, you shouldn't have gone into crime. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Like...well, this chandelier, for one." He groaned louder.

 **Two hours later, Mammal Intelligence 6 HQ**

"Splendid work back there, you two," the Commander, a rather stern lion, said. "You turned an assassination attempt into our first concrete links to Nikolai since he skipped town."

"Just another day on the job, sir," I replied. "How...uh, how's that antelope doing?"

"Coked out of her mind, but alive," he stated matter-of-factly. "Nikolai's gang is just _vicious_ , shooting that poor girl like that. And they're too scared to admit it, they kept insisting that you shot her, Jack. Imagine that!"

I chuckled nervously. "Heh, now that's just...well, ludicrous." Howlton and the Commander gave me a funny look as I cleared my throat before leaning back in my chair. "Aaaanyway..."

The Commander cleared his throat as well.

"Yes. Well, then...our latest intelligence shows us that Nikolai's most likely halfway across the ocean by now, en route to Zootopia, which, as you know, is far larger than anything on this side of the pond. And naturally, it's a juicier target for the kind of person that'd be buying biological weapons from a polar bear on the other side of the world—juicier to the tune of five million dead with optimal placement of the missiles, and that's just in the first 24 hours."

"Who's the buyer?" Howlton asked.

"Well...that's just the conundrum. We don't exactly know who it is. There are reports of who the buyer may be connected to: predator supremacist groups, prey supremacist groups, mammalian purity groups, good old-fashioned criminals with vendettas, crooked politicians—"

"So what you're saying is, we haven't got a single damned clue," she interrupted.

"No, we have a lot of clues," the Commander quipped. "Too many. And only one of them can be accurate, by definition. It's better than the alternative."

"You're saying that anyone could be the buyer."

"We—"

"That's exactly like saying we don't have any clue who. If we didn't have a single lead, then of course any potential terrorist group could be a suspect."

"Howlton, I didn't get to where I am by feeding crappy intel to my agents, you know."

"I'm just saying," she sighed. "What do you think, Savage?"

"Who, me? I think that we need to investigate all possible leads immediately. I doubt the kind of guy who's out buying biological weapons is going to sit on them for a while."

"He's got a point," Howlton responded.

"Precisely. We're in touch with our overseas counterparts, and...well, Savage, they asked for a favor..."

My eyes widened. "No. Absolutely not."

"They requested you by name."

"They're fans? I can send them an autograph."

"They need you."

"I promised myself a long time ago, I wasn't going back over there."

"It's been twenty-two years, Jack..."

"It could have been yesterday. I remember it so vividly..."

"Millions could die, Jack."

"Howlton's perfectly qualified."

"We need her investigating leads here, Agent. They need you."

"I can't do that, sir, please."

"If Nikolai's buyer puts his plan into action, and you don't do a thing to stop it, the blood's on your hands, Jack, the blood of millions. Far more so than John's ever was—"

"God _damn_ you!" I shouted angrily. "Just who the bloody hell do you think you are?"

"I'm your commanding officer, Jack, _that's_ who the bloody hell I am, and I'm telling you, this agency needs you overseas. Our counterparts need you overseas, and so help me, God, you'll go overseas!" he roared in reply. "You—you—Howlton, if you would be so kind?"

"I—yes, sir," she quietly squeaked out, a bit terrified, as she made a hasty exit.

The commander took a deep breath. And then, another.

"Mr. Savage, you're a fantastic asset to this agency, as I'm sure you're well aware."

"I'm nothing special, sir."

"You're one of our finest field operatives, if not _the_ finest."

"That's very kind of you, sir."

"I understand your hesitation. I understand that in your many, many years of esteemed service to this agency, and to mammalkind at large, you've lost only one partner in the line of duty. And I understand that it was your first mission, which took you overseas to the exact place I'm asking you to go to now. Were the need not dire, I would gladly ask another."

"I see, sir."

"Millions of lives are at stake. If the buyer of those weapons were to detonate them in the city itself, the carnage would be...unimaginable."

"You're absolutely right about that, sir."

"And the buyer knows that very, very well. So he knows that, at the very least, he can kill millions in a month or so. If that's not his plan, then we must only assume something more sinister is ongoing."

"Indeed, sir." I sighed, knowing that this was unavoidable. "I...I suppose I can pull myself together, sir."

"I know you've got a lot of unresolved trauma regarding that place."

"I cut my teeth in that city. I'd never killed a mammal before. I'd never seen a mammal get killed before."

"Maybe you'll have a chance to...to find his family, or something? Get closure somehow?"

I hung my head. "Sir, I think I'm inclined to get in, do what I must, and get out. But I appreciate that."

"Of course, Savage, of course. Best not to open old wounds."

"Any more so than they already have been," I sighed. "I'll go, sir."

"Excellent. I'm hoping to have you there before morning; I hope you're fine with a red-eye flight...?"

"Hardly the most objectionable thing about this mission in my eyes, sir."

"Right. Right, well, the ZPD and ZIA will be aware of your presence. As to how much help they'll be providing—overt help, that is—remains in the air. They don't want too many rank-and-file coppers hearing anything. Given the recent, ah...turmoil over there regarding predator-prey relations, the city's authorities want to avoid a mass panic. A foreign agent's presence being necessary would, naturally, cause a panic."

"So it's a solo mission, then?"

"Unless you're assigned companions, then yes."

"Good. I don't want them losing anyone else on my behalf."

"I...Jack, I swear, if this wasn't absolutely necessary..."

"I know, sir. What else should I know?"

"One last thing. We're...well, we're in touch with ZPD and ZIA. We're not in touch with the _actual_ higher echelons of government there. Too much procedural garbage to attend to in such a case, and the ZPD and ZIA heads both agreed that this needs to be solved quickly and quietly. We're going to crack through as much red tape as we can, but until that's finished with..."

"I'm not just solo, I'm off the radar and I'm unofficial. Given my past with Nikolai, if I'm caught by the Mammalian Bureau of Investigation, or some other agency that we're not already working with, my escapades will be written off as a rogue agent's pursuit of a personal vendetta. Total plausible deniability for MI6 and all complicit organizations."

"I..."

"I've got to be blunt here, sir, this is about the worst bloody thing you've done to me," I laughed. He was lucky in that moment to be a lion, otherwise I might've just killed him right there. I'm only half kidding.

"You've got the ZPD and ZIA gunning for you—the higher-ups, of course. They'll keep you out of trouble as much as they're able to. Not to mention any of our double agents in the MBI."

"Why don't you just call the MBI right now and we can just eliminate a good deal of potential problems from the get-go?"

"The MBI and MI6 aren't nearly as friendly as we once were. After that one minor incident we had seven years back, they see us almost as an enemy. The commissioner's almost convinced we're out to sabotage their security services for the sake of a future conflict."

"Between us and Old Mammalia? Paranoid bugger, we've been allies since...how long's it been? 150 years at least!"

"Exactly. But I'm afraid that's what we're dealing with."

I sighed. "Always some bizarre complication. Anything else?"

"Nothing else. We'll keep in touch with you, and we'll make sure you're in contact with our allies in the relevant organizations."

"Excellent. Then I should be off."

"Yes, that would be ideal. You'll be departing from the agency's airstrip at 2200."

"Very good, sir."

"Go home, pack a few things. Your gear will be on the aircraft, and you'll be going immediately to meet with the ZPD chief and ZIA commandant. And...Jack?"

"Sir?"

"Good luck."

"Thank you, sir." I walked out of the office. Howlton was there, waiting for me.

"I...I wish I could accompany you," she stammered.

"I wish you could, too." We both laughed nervously. "How long have we been working together, Sarah?"

"Five years, I think."

"And now on the biggest case I've ever seen, one of the biggest MI6 has EVER seen..."

"And the commander's got me mopping up leads on the street, and star agent Savage goes to the big city to stop the arms traff—"

"You're welcome to convince him to switch us out," I laughed.

"Jack...I'm a little worried, I can't lie."

"It's not that dangerous, it just seems—"

"What if you get into trouble?"

"I'll talk my way out."

She chuckled. "When you talk your way out of a situation on the job, you're a nervous wreck. It'd be cute if it didn't almost get you killed so—"

"Cute?" I raised my eyebrow.

"Not cute, just...I dunno. Endearing."

"That's better."

"You know what I mean, though."

"Then I'll shoot my way out."

"You're not exactly a crack shot, Jack."

I gave a defeated sigh. "What are you saying, Sarah?"

"I just...I'm worried. I don't know. I have a really bad feeling about this. I do the shooting and the talking, you do the planning and the fighting. That's how it's supposed to be. They almost never split us up like this."

I looked to the ground. "I don't much like the idea of it, myself. But..."

"I know. Just, for God's sake, be careful. Please, Jack."

"I will. You too, Sarah." She pulled me in for a hug, and we just held onto each other for a bit, before nervously breaking it off. I laughed like a hyena, my nerves were off the charts. She followed suit; the tension in the room was so thick you could've cut open the air. "I—I'll make sure to give you a call sometime soon. To let you know I'm safe."

"Thanks, I—you know how I worry."

"Yeah," I smiled. "Good luck, partner."

"You too, partner."

 _How long has it been since you worked overseas, Jack?_

Who knows? Who cares?

 _Every time you come here, you screw up._

And the stakes haven't been this high in forever.

 _He didn't die. He was killed. You killed him._

It was an accident, we all know the stakes—

 _He had a son, Jack. A wife and a son. I wonder if they're dead now too..._

The first lives I ruined. Not the last, by any measure.

 _Starved to death, maybe, no breadwinner, and back when prey like that was **really** hated..._

Howlton was right. I'm not the one-rabbit army they all say I am.

 _They all say you're the best, but you're a fraud._

I've been doing this since I was a young one. How long's it been? I'm pushing forty, not that you'd ever guess it, but—you'd think I could pick up some skills in all this time, with all I've done.

 _Twenty-two years ago, Jack._

Twenty-two years and I'm probably the lowest piece of crap in the whole division. A fraud.

 _You're going to watch this city burn for the sake of your pride._

But maybe I'm capable. Maybe I'm just unconventional.

 _Your luck has to run out eventually, Jack._

But not today.

The plane landed at the airport after a long and bumpy night flight across the ocean. I slept during the flight—barely. Mostly, I laid awake, watching the clock, watching the dark waters with trepidation as we passed by. As we approached the coast and the sun peeked over the horizon, I poured myself a stiff drink. Double measure of vodka; it wasn't a cure, more like a bandage. But by God, I needed a bandage. _Five o'clock somewhere, hey, it's five o'clock here...five in the morning, what's the difference?_

When we landed, I peered out the window to see a ZPD car by the tarmac, and a very large cape buffalo in uniform was there waiting. I sighed. This was all happening so fast.

Disembarking, I waved at him. At first, he looked at me incredulously, and waited a second, craning his neck so as to see if someone else would be disembarking. I sighed. After what felt like an awkward eternity, he came up to the ramp and shook my hand.

"You must be Agent Savage," he said. He didn't have much of an accent, funnily enough.

"Indeed, at your service, Officer..."

"Bogo. _Chief_ Bogo."

"Oh, my mistake, sir. I didn't realize you'd be meeting me directly."

"Given the nature of this operation, I thought it best. Sending another officer to pick you up means they'd know too, then they tell their partner about having to chauffeur a rather _peculiar_ fellow early in the morning, then it spreads around like wildfire."

"That's a good point." I looked around; for all the fear I felt regarding this city, all the anxiety and traumatic memories, I couldn't deny that it was beautiful. "Shall we?"

He opened the passenger door for me. "After you."

We entered the vehicle and set off. At first, the silence was a bit awkward; I couldn't decide whether or not I was surprised at his initial doubt. I know that species stereotyping was far from rare here, but I had been under the impression that things were getting better. Perhaps the idea that a rabbit could be a skilled operative was a bit much; I'd heard they had just now gotten around to letting us on the police force itself, much less such high positions.

"You seemed, ah... _surprised_ at my, well...being me," I said.

"My apologies, Agent. I—well, I just was caught a bit off guard."

"They didn't tell you?"

"They didn't."

"And you didn't ask?"

"Well, no."

"Must not have been that important a detail, then." I could barely suppress a smirk. He looked at me for a second, a bit miffed. "Must not," he replied.

"So, what's the plan?"

"Well, we were supposed to meet with Chief Clawgrinder of the ZIA, but he had to leave town for an emergency meeting with the President and the head of the MBI. Something tells me it has something to do with this whole Nikolai situation. He's going to try and get as much influence over the case as he can from the MBI. Most likely, though, they'll end up 50/50, so you'll have to watch for MBI agents. Anyway, I'm going to show you your accommodations for the time being, and in the meantime, we'll discuss our first move."

"Sounds good to me. Have you got much intelligence?"

"Only what the men at MI6 sent us. We've got three mammals with links to this Nikolai fellow. Adam Furman, a badger whose rap sheet's a half mile long, and probably knows a bit about this buyer, he lives in some warehouse in Central. Then there's Hans Grisbar, a grizzly bear from overseas, like yourself. He's known to have links to some...interesting organizations. Usually found in nightclubs. Finally, there's one we only know as Borodin. Polar bear like Nikolai, probably his link to Zootopia. No idea where he'd be right now, working on it."

"Our top priority should be to find the buyer," I replied. "I'll take on Furman first."

"I can assign you support of some kind, I'll let you pick—"

"Absolutely not, sir. I appreciate it, but this is all very...cloak and dagger."

"The offer's open, in any case. I think you should consider it, as technically you're acting in an extrajudicial manner. Might help to have actual authority with you, I'll do all I can, but nothing's guaranteed."

"I'll give it some thought."

"Excellent. I'll arrange to have Furman's files delivered to your apartment, along with your luggage and all the equipment that was specified by your commander."

"Perfect. Thank you."


	2. It's Just a Simple Operation

(Ninja A/N: Well, this is thoroughly embarrassing. Seems the doc manager deleted the marks I used to indicate a POV change; that all _should_ be fixed now. Sorry about that!)

It was a relief that the first part of the operation would be so smooth. Under the cover of darkness, infiltrate the warehouse, get info on Furman, wait for a chance to drug him and take him to a pre-designated safe house, and interrogate him. Seemed like it'd be easy enough, anyway. It was always the easy and "safe" ones that went straight to hell.

Furman was a sneaky little bastard by all accounts, and an awful little bastard at that. He had done time for everything from assault, to burglary, to drugs and weapons possession. I had no reason to doubt that he'd stopped carrying illegal weapons around, and furthermore, I had no reason to doubt that any companions of his at the warehouse would be armed as well. But luckily, this wasn't a full frontal assault. Just a quick infiltration, some intel-gathering, a kidnapping, and...a rather thorough interrogation, easy, it was all so easy. With any luck, I could have some information on the buyer by nightfall.

I rehearsed it in my head as I drove down to the warehouse in the specialized car that Chief Bogo had been so kind to have dropped off at my flat, which, frankly, was almost nicer than my flat back home. Not that I really ever stayed there, to be honest. _Enter, gather, kidnap, question. Enter, gather, kidnap, question. Enter, gather, kidnap, qu—_

Police sirens behind me. _Damn it._ I flicked on the hazards and pulled to the side. _Keep it cool, Jack, you're not breaking any—you've yet to break any laws—okay, your gun's not technically legal—keep it cool, Jack, for God's sake! Why are they even—_ and it was at that moment I realized how important it was to focus at least a little bit on driving, regardless of my obsession with the mission layout.

XXXXXXX

"This idiot's been driving on the left side of the road ever since he got off the freeway." I couldn't help but burst out laughing. "Like...just, thank God this stretch is so deserted," Nick grumbled as I turned on our siren. "He must be a tourist."

"I'd never set foot in Zootopia in my whole life before I joined the force, and nobody ever had to tell me to drive on the right."

"I wouldn't hold up your driving skills as a shining example for the rest of mammalkind, Carrots." That damned smirk. The epitome of smug.

"Nick Wilde, so help me..."

"I mean, at least this guy can brake smoothly, you're always doing that thing with your foot where you're slapping it down at 60 miles an hour and the force of a rhino hitting a—"

"Are you really saying this guy who's driving on the wrong side of the road drives better than me?"

"I'm just saying! But you're right, he's hardly any better. I bet this guy's a rabbit too."

"Oh, shut up. Why would a rabbit be in a place like this at eleven at night?"

"Well, he wouldn't be the only one..."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm gonna go write his ticket now."

"Alright. Twenty bucks it's a rabbit," he called out as I got out of the car

"Shut up!" I yelled back, trying not to laugh. He was giving me _that_ smile, the one that made me want to wrap my arms around him and squeeze him so hard it takes the life out of him...and also makes me want to punch that smug grin off his face until I've just about beaten the life out him. But I don't think either one would be a good idea, anyway.

I got to the driver's side window of the car, when I noticed that it was a damned Furrari! I tapped on the window, which the driver rolled down; and he was a rabbit. _SON OF A BITCH!_

"Damn it!" I exclaimed. The driver gave me a confused look, and we could both hear Nick laughing like a maniac in the car. "Ignore him, please. Sorry about that...license and registration, please."

He handed me a passport from the United Animal Kingdom, and the rental paperwork. "I apologize for my...err, bizarre, driving, back there," he said meekly in the most beautiful accent I'd ever heard. "I'm not from around here, and I...well, I lapsed into the usual driving habits."

"I mean, it's a good thing that nobody's ever out on this street, otherwise someone could've been seriously hurt."

"I know, I—God, I'm a bloody fool, I really am," he replied, putting his head in his paws. _That voice._

"Hey, don't be too hard on yourself, nobody's hurt...hey, wait a second, why's a tourist out here?"

His eyes widened a bit. "Oh, I'm just seeing the city. _All_ of the city, even the emptier and...well, less exciting parts."

"Mm-hmm..."

"I mean, you can find excitement in the most boring places, sometimes."

"What kind of excitement could you be looking for out here?" Illegal excitement of some kind, maybe.

"Well, I can't say I'm entirely sure. But that's the fun!"

"Uh huh. Let me just run your info real quick, Mister..."

"Savage. Jackson Savage, at your service. And you'd be...?"

"Officer Judy Hopps, ZPD." It still felt a little surreal to say that, honestly.

"Ah, it's a pleasure to meet you. I didn't think this city had mammals like us as police!"

"Yeah, I'm still the only one."

"Well, it's good to see us moving forward. You...you look familiar. Have I seen you in the news?"

"I mean, I helped solve the Night Howler case, I don't know how much you'd have heard about it over there."

"Bits and pieces...ah! You're _that_ Judy Hopps!"

"I don't think there's another."

"But of course. You and that fox, whose name eludes me somehow, are well-known back home!" He glanced into the rearview mirror. "Is that him back there? It sounds like there's a hyena in there." He was _still_ laughing, somehow. It wasn't even that funny!

"Ignore him. I'm gonna be right back," I said, my voice as dead as I was inside by this point. When I got back to the car I could see that he was, indeed, still laughing.

"Shut up."

"Twenty bucks, Carrots. Pay up."

"Nicholas Wilde, I swear to God—"

"Oh, come on, it's funny."

I couldn't help but smile as I typed the info from his passport into the computer. "He's from the UAK. _Gorgeous_ accent. Only question is, why the hell is he out here?"

"Well, you could ask him."

"I did. Said he was looking for 'excitement' or something."

"Well, looks like we've got a drug bust if we want it."

"That's just it, he doesn't look or sound like a junkie. Hell, he's wearing a suit for whatever reason."

"I've seen some junkies who are pretty good at hiding it. They'll look normal, dress nice for the coppers, and they'll be face-down in an alleyway by morning. What's the info say?"

"His name's Jack Savage, forty years old, from a place called Edinburrow."

"Does he come here often?"

"His passport's only got one prior stamp. He came here about twenty-two years ago."

"Huh. And that's all his travel?"

"Apparently so. In fact, there's not a stamp for this visit..."

" _That's_ fishy as hell," Nick said flatly. "And it means that there was probably a felony committed at some point when he entered the country, there's no way he's here on that visit."

"Exactly, it was a six month stay according to the visa in here."

Nick put on his sunglasses. "Busted. Shall we go together?"

"You know it."

XXXXXXX

 _She's not bad looking._

She's got to be half your age, you twat!

 _Hey, nothing wrong with a look. You're a spy, an international man of mystery, you can pull them in._

That's a load of bullshit. You can't work up the nerve to say anything to Sarah after all this time! How can you pull in strangers?

 _It comes with the territory. You think about this stuff too much. Just act!_

Whatever. She's taking an awfully long time.

 _You want to get another look already? You sly dog._

What I want is to get this bloody show on the road! Can't question this Furman prick when I'm pulled over!

 _Hey, look in the rearview, there she is. And...oh dear. Not good. The fox is coming too. His hand's on his gun._

What? Oh, sweet bloody Christ almighty. Play it cool, Jack.

 _Play it cool. It's got to be a misunderstanding._

She arrived at the already-down window with my documents in hand. The fox was standing by the passenger side with his gun not pointed at me, but definitely at the ready. I rolled down the window and gave him a hello and a polite wave. He didn't reciprocate.

"I was starting to worry that—"

"That he ate me?" she asked, annoyed.

"What? Because he's a fox?"

"Yeah—"

"What? No! For God's sake, I might be a _little_ older than you two, it doesn't mean I'm a bloody dinosaur! Much less a predophobe!"

"I'm sorry, sir, I—"

"I was saying that I was starting to worry the bloody computer was buggered up!"

"What the hell do you people _do_ to your computers?" he exclaimed out of nowhere. Hopps and I exchanged glances and burst out laughing.

"No, that's not what that means," I gasped out in between heaving laughs, fighting back tears. "It—it's an expression, like, it's...it's buggered up, that means it's shot to hell or something. Not that it's literally been buggered."

"That makes a lot more sense,"

"In any case, Mr. Savage, care to explain this?" she said, handing me my passport and documents. The passport was turned to the visa page.

"Yes, I visited here twenty-two years ago, what of it?"

"There's no other stamps here."

"I don't travel often."

"Care to explain how you entered the country this time?"

I felt the blood draining from my face. "Well, it appears I've been caught with my pants down."

"It does indeed, Mr. Savage," the fox said. "And the MBI is going to have a field day knowing that you're out here looking for 'excitement.'"

"T—the MBI?" I was about to panic.

"They handle these sorts of cases, yes."

"And—your chief will be reporting this to them, yes?"

"Nope! We'll be sending the report directly from the computer. They like the efficiency."

I sighed. "I don't suppose this is going to end very well, is it?"

"Please step out of the car, Mr. Savage," Judy said. The fox was pointing his gun right at my head. Six shot, .38 Special revolver...perfect. I rolled up the window. _This car had better be worth what we paid for it._

"Sir, you do know this thing can puncture car windows?" I heard him say.

I turned to Judy. "Does he always sound this smug?" She nodded.

"Well, in any case..." I needed them both distracted long enough to make my getaway. If I simply gunned it, they might be able to pick up my trail and continue following me. My gun was by the seat, somehow unnoticed up to this point. "...I hope your hearing doesn't get damaged, Ms. Hopps," I whispered quietly so that the fox wouldn't hear me.

"Huh?"

I drew the gun and, aiming it right above her head in the space between her ears, fired two shots through the open window in her direction, intentionally missing her completely and hitting the abandoned building behind her; she immediately dove to the ground. No blood. _Thank God, I missed._ The fox, as predicted, emptied his entire cylinder into the window. The window which was made of bullet-proof glass. With a nod and a wave to him, I gunned it down the long street. Before I turned the corner, I glanced at the rear-view to see him consoling her; her mouth was moving. I was glad; I had no intention of killing a cop tonight, much less the first of my kind to be one out here. I doubt Bogo would have forgiven me. I certainly wouldn't have forgiven _myself._

XXXXXXX

My life out on the streets taught me a lot. Namely, that bad things can happen no matter what, and they'll wipe it all out at a second's notice, everything you've got. And what can you do? Not a damned thing. I may have been taught the lesson, but damn, I didn't really _learn_ it.

While Carrots and Mr. Mystery were yammering about the particulars of the passport situation, I couldn't help but notice that this was, by far, the most unusual rabbit I'd ever seen. _Including Carrots._ For one, the damn suit. Not that she had a bad sense of style—I mean, my God, you should've seen the gown she wore to the policeman's ball two weeks back. _Yowza._ I mean, in a platonic sense, I can't deny she looked good. In that friendly sort of way. Like, I dunno, you get it. But this guy was about the most dapper son-of-a-bitch I've ever seen. Not for a bunny, like, for a mammal. His car, too. I've never seen a bunny drive a sports car! Maybe...I mean, hell, maybe those guys in the UAK are a lot different, but I doubt it.

And it wasn't just the clothes or the car. Not by a mile. No, no, it was _him._ I could tell he was nervous, and at the same time, he was exuding this sense of confidence, of raw power. As if the world was falling in around him and he was just going to smile and hold it all back up. And he looked more smug than me. _Than me!_ How's that even _possible?_ But it wasn't just that either. He looked so...so _familiar._ His name was familiar too. Maybe my subconscious had a better recollection and wanted me to dart, but I decided it'd be better to just keep it cool.

"Please, step out of the car, Mr. Savage," Carrots said in her annoyed voice. She motioned to me, and I readied my weapon. We had no idea what was going to happen; this guy could've been full of surprises.

He looked at me for a second. And then—he rolled up the window! As if it'd make a shred of difference! I almost laughed.

"Sir, you do know this thing can puncture car windows?" I asked, trying to project an aura of confidence. In reality, I was terrified. This guy was just weirding me out.

They exchanged a few more words, and then...they just stared at each other. And then, like a flash of lightning, his arm shot down beside the side and reared back up. There was a pistol pointed right at her head. And I felt the fear stab into my chest.

" ** _Gun!_** " I screamed, only to be drowned out by the roaring thunder of two shots ringing out into the empty night. She fell to the ground, and before I could even think, before I could even process it, I fired all six shots into the passenger side window, right at his head.

The last shot rang out. An eerie silence took over, no sound except for the rain hitting the concrete and my heart hitting my chest.

 _He was alive!_ The bastard had bulletproof glass! Smug prick even waved at me before jetting off, leaving Carrots huddled on the ground. I threw the pistol down and practically dove at her.

"JUDY! Judy, Judy, Carrots, for God's sake—" I sputtered, only to realize that I heard the sound of her silently crying. I could only hug her, shield her from the rain, and her silent weeping turned into hysterical bawling. She was crying. She was _alive._ Unhurt, even.

"You're alive, Carrots, he—somehow, he missed, thank God, he missed," I gasped.

She stopped crying after a minute. "He—where is he? You shot him, didn't you?"

"Bulletproof glass."

She gasped. "He's getting away! We have to—"

"He's already away, there's nothing we can do."

"We'll find him. We have to," she sniffled, wiping her tears away. "Come on."

We got up and ran to the car, and jetted off as soon as we were in; she was still too shaken to drive, so I did it. As I roared down the narrow street, I grabbed the radio. "Dispatch, this is Officer Wilde, be advised, we have an attempted ten-double-zero, license plate CH3-3K1, black Furrari, in the Central Industrial District, over."

"Roger that, Officer. Injuries?"

"None, but several shots fired. Suspect's car has bullet-proof glass, over. Lost visual contact but searching for the suspect."

"Roger that. We'll sweep the area."

XXXXXXX

I pulled the car into an alleyway a block off from the warehouse, in the event that the police swept the area. I knew they were _probably_ going to want me in custody with a renewed fervour; as far as they knew, I didn't take two shots in an officer's direction at point blank range to evade custody, I attempted to murder an officer but failed despite the laughable distance involved. I can't say I blame them for interpreting it like that. Regardless, I had bigger business to attend to...like saving their hides from biological terrorists. _They'll thank me when it's said and done,_ I thought to myself.

The warehouse was the kind of place you'd expect a career criminal to be living out of. It actually didn't look half bad, I thought, but then again, it was still a warehouse in what must've been the most decrepit and abandoned side of town.

Peeking from behind the corner of the building next door I surveyed the warehouse. A jaguar and a tiger were standing guard outside the office door with rifles in hand. It was a fairly elaborate building, looked to have an office or two attached. I was going to enter through a skylight, clear the lobby, get to the warehouse proper, case the joint, get my info, and figure it out from there.

First things first; the guards. _Where the hell did I put my tranq gun?_ Using the Walrus would've been too loud, and in any case, they _could_ be innocent mammals who think they're working security for a legitimate operation...unlikely, but I'm a spy, not an executioner. Using the tranquilizer just tended to work out better when I could help it.

I checked my watch. It was getting late, yet through the skylights lining the side of the building, I saw light. The occupants were still up...well, damn. At least one of the skylights at the building's front was open.

I quickly emerged from the shadows and fired two darts at the guards' necks—both hits. They turned to me, raised their weapons—and dropped. Military-grade tranquilizer serum's a fun little thing. I didn't have the time to move them, but in any case, my stay was going to be brief, and it's not as though this were a terribly well-populated area. I went up to the front door and listened for anything on the other side. Nothing. I opened it and...I walked inside. How anticlimactic.

Now that I was inside, I started sniffing around for intel. The door had led me to the lobby, as I'd hoped. The foreman and manager's offices had been converted to bedrooms. First bedroom was definitely Furman's; the little bastard's mug was plastered all over the place, seems he was quite a narcissistic chap at that. Color me surprised. I took pictures with my phone camera of the room, checked for documents, et cetera. In the end, I found a notebook and an external hard drive, which would both turn out to be either treasure troves of intel or a bust. I'd let Bogo mine through it.

Then it was on to the next room. It was very minimalist in there; a cot, desk, hair and lamp. There weren't a whole lot of personal effects in there, but I found tufts of panther fur on the cot, and a ledger that, on first glance, detailed expenses, all of which had some kind of code name. I took some of the fur and the ledger; it'd do for now. On to find Furman.

I went back into the hallway and looked through the door to the main warehouse area. I listened for activity; there was the sound of a card game of some sort going on across the room. I entered to find that the room was filled with all sorts of boxes arranged on shelves in what felt like a labyrinth pattern. I looked between the shelves to find a bunch of what appeared to be mercenaries played cards; Furman was at the table. Intrigued by their cargo, I quietly took a box and looked into one; car parts of some kind. Another box had office supplies. This was thoroughly confounding.

A gun clicked behind me. "You're under arrest, Savage."

I turned to see a thoroughly pissed off fox standing right beside me, and an all-too familiar revolver pointed right at my head.

XXXXXXX

I hadn't seen him like this in a long, long time. I'd seen him sad. I'd seen him upset. But the way he was now, it was...it was so _raw_. Compared to that day after the press conference, even, that wasn't nearly as ferocious as what he was feeling now. That opaque mask he always had worn around me, even when he opened up, had cracked; the close guard he kept on his emotions day in and day out was AWOL. His heart was a furnace running on fire and rage, and I wasn't sure whether to be touched or terrified. A little of both perhaps.

 _It's actually kinda hot, to be honest..._

My thoughts betrayed me. _Wait, what? Shut up!_ _Now's not the time, and besides..._

I was nearly flung to the side as we took a sharp curve at 70 miles an hour.

"Will you slow down? I can't look for him when the scenery's a blur!"

"I can find him," Nick growled, venom dripping from his voice. He looked at me, and the fire in his eyes dimmed a bit, replaced by compassion, if only for a second. "You should sit back and take it easy."

"Hard to do that unless _you_ take it easy on the accelerator!"

He sighed. "This guy's probably out to kill someone, or worse. We can't wait. If he'd take shots at a cop and has bullet-proof windows, he's a professional at _whatever_ the hell he's doing."

"Then what are _we_ going to do about it?"

He sighed, the fire low on fuel. "He almost took you from me, Judy."

My heart skipped a beat. _Took me from him?_ That's...not how I would say it to a friend. Not that I felt bothered by it at all. Or...did I? No, _bothered_ wasn't the right word. It was a feeling, all right, but a weird one. Maybe that jackass had actually capped me in the head and this was all a weird coma?

"I...I know."

"And I can't stand that thought."

I looked into my lap. "It's a risk we have to deal with every day—"

"I don't know what I'd do, Judy. I really don't."

"Nick, I—is that the car?"

He slammed on the brakes with full force, again almost throwing me across the car, this time, right through the windshield. "Next time, I don't care if I actually have a hole in my skull, fox, **_I am driving._** " He laughed, and then smiled at me, and I smiled back, and it almost felt like I hadn't been nearly murdered in cold blood by some mysterious stranger from overseas with a military-grade sports car and a voice that sounded like the personification of some ancient sex god...suffice to say, it was quite a night thus far.

"Yep, that's the car. No sign of him."

We got out of the patrol car and investigated further. Nick called dispatch and gave them the sports car's location. I looked around the vehicle while Nick looked around the area.

"Uh...Carrots? I think I found his tracks," Nick said, his voice sounding equally terrified and amazed. He motioned for us to go over to the next block over, where two burly security guards were laying face-down, rifles in their hands. The door they were guarding was cracked open.

"Oh, sweet cheese and crackers, this guy's insane..."

"I don't see any shell casings around, theirs or his. Or blood."

I examined one of the downed guards. "Tranquilizer darts!"

"You're kidding! He uses darts on them, takes them both down quickly without letting either of them get a shot off, but damn near takes your head off only to somehow miss from half a foot away?"

"Nick, I don't think he missed."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think he was aiming at me. Right before he opened fire, he said 'I hope your hearing doesn't get damaged.' I think he was trying to distract us and make a getaway."

He looked stunned. "Did...did we just get hustled by this guy?"

"I think so, Nick."

"You think he's in the building?"

"He might be."

"Call for backup, I'll check the building. If we're right, he's not gonna kill me. If we're wrong, we can't wait for backup, because he'll escape, and the last thing we want is this maniac on the streets."

"Alright. Please, Nick, be careful."

"You too, Carrots. Watch my back."

He disappeared into the building. "Dispatch, this is Officer Hopps, we've found the suspect. He's a gray rabbit with black streaks on the left side of his face and left ear, wearing a suit. Suspect is highly trained, armed to the teeth and extremely dangerous." I gave the address and all the other details after that.

"This is Chief Bogo," the radio roared with urgency. "Do **_not_** confront the suspect. Return to precinct immediately."

"Officer Wilde's already in the buil—" I responded, surprised and somewhat betrayed by the order, when automatic gunfire rang out inside the building, the ringing of the shots quite audible to the dispatch. I bolted as the skylights exploded above me, raining broken glass onto the sidewalk. I could hear the first bit of backup arriving.

"Carrots, he's running out the back!" I heard over the radio, and I took off running.

XXXXXXX

"You're under arrest, Savage." I gulped as I glanced between the shelves of boxes to see the card players noticing him and grabbing military-grade rifles to investigate.

"I know you probably don't adore me right now, but please, _please,_ shut up and hide," I whispered.

"Not a chance," he said as he lowered his weapon and came up to cuff me. "You're lucky she's okay or I'd splatter you all over the—"

I swung around and grabbed his paw, forcing him into a grapple. "You don't know what you're getting into, Officer..."

"Who the hell's there?" _Shit._ I threw the fox out the door and into the hallway, doing so in a way that'd leave him behind the corner, and leapt through the doorway myself a wall of bullets tore through the air. It sounded like we were being pursued by a damned buzzsaw. The bullets then stopped, I put a few rounds through the doorway for , he and I looked at each other, and I took off down the hall and through the back door.

I had to get to the car. I would've just gone towards the street and down that way, but I could hear loud sirens approaching. _ZPD doesn't play around. Oh, hell, here we go..._

Down the alley I ran, and I cut to the left, hoping to evade the sirens, but there in my way was a very angry rabbit with a badge and a gun. The gun was pointed right at my chest.

"Ah, Officer Hopps. Any ringing in the ears?" I asked with a sheepish grin. The fox was soon coming at my flank, apparently having taken a different path through the alleys. He, too, was pointing a weapon at me. My weapon was pointed at the ground, and wisdom dictated that it shouldn't be pointed anywhere else.

"Drop. Your. Weapon," she growled.

"Officers, officers, this whole thing's been blown out of proportion," I laughed nervously, making my way to a nearby dumpster. I'd have to hop my way out this one, it appeared. "Why don't I see myself out—"

Then, I heard the sound of a half dozen shotguns being pumped behind me. I looked back to find a team of large, muscular officers with their weapons pointed right at me.

"Drop it."

I grudgingly put my pistol on the ground. Bogo was going to have a field day.


	3. A Pleasant Car Ride with Mister Savage

_See, the conquering hero comes! The Scot saviour of England, champion of the Crown!_

Captured by two low-level coppers because he couldn't drive on the right side of the road.

 _It's rather funny, actually._

I'm a dead man walking. If they hand me off straight to the MBI, there's hardly a damn thing that Bogo can do for me.

 _Surely escaping police custody wouldn't be a hard undertaking for a mammal such as yourself._

Escaping is easy. Evading is harder. This operation was hard enough without being on the run.

 _The almighty Jack Savage, ladies and gentlemen._

But I guess I don't have a choice one way or the other.

XXXXXXX

"Dispatch, this is Officer Hopps. Be advised, we have the suspect apprehended and are preparing to transport him to precinct headquarters. Have a prisoner escort team ready, suspect is dangerous. We'll be notifying the MBI shortly, over."

"Roger that, Officer. We'll notify the Chief, he seems rather...anxious about this situation. He's specifically asked for all updates as they come along, over."

"Ten-four," I replied.

Nick looked into the car, and at me, and back into the car. Something was bothering him, and severely so; he was in a trance of some kind, almost as if Savage was hypnotizing him.

"Are you okay?"

"Huh?" He snapped back to reality. "Yeah...yeah, I'm fine. You?"

"Worried about you. You seem really shaken up."

"Oh, yeah. Just, that thing earlier, about him almost killing you. Or not almost killing you, whichever it was."

I smiled. "Hey, don't worry. Whatever it was that he was trying to do, I'm fine. Completely unhurt. And if you want to know for sure, we can ask him during interrogation."

He sighed. "It's not just that, Carrots. I know this guy."

My heart skipped a beat. "W—what?"

"I don't know how. I don't know from where, I don't know, I've seen him before, I just know it, I just do."

"How is that possible? I mean, maybe you met him on some prior travel of his?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I just, he's so _familiar._ And it's bugging me way more that it should."

"Some element of your less-than-scrupulous past?"

"No, it's not that. I'd know if it was."

"Maybe you can ask him about it."

"Maybe." He sighed. "He reminds me of..." Then he paused.

"Of who?"

"...never mind. Let's just book this guy."

I frowned. "Nick, you can tell me anything, you know. I'm here for you."

He gave me a weak smile. "I appreciate that. Thank you. Another time."

"Okay. Whenever you're ready to."

He nodded, and with that, we stepped into the car.

XXXXXXX

The car ride was, honestly, quite awkward. The rabbit drove, and my attempts to start conversation over bunny solidarity were ignored. The fox wouldn't talk to me at all, but kept looking back at me, as if to briefly study my features.

"Take a picture; it'll last longer and it's hardly more uncomfortable than your stealing glances."

"Hmph."

I rolled my eyes. He kept looking at me.

"Carrots, should I go ahead and let MBI dispatch know what's going on?" My eyes briefly widened, and I knew he noticed.

"Should we wait for Bogo given the circumstances? This isn't some normal suspect."

"Ordinarily, I'd say yes. But he starts squirming every time we mention the MBI. He _really_ doesn't want us to call them. And I'm willing to bet he'll pull some funny business at the station when we transfer him to the detention block if it means avoiding them."

"Now, listen, I'm sure the MBI isn't interested in a little fellow like me. Or, maybe they are, I don't know. But your chief would know better than any of us."

"You really want Bogo to decide what happens to you?"

"I'm working with him, so...yes."

"Uh huh. I wasn't born yesterday. Why are you so keen to stay out of their paws?" he asked.

"I don't think myself unique in that aspect, friend. Would you want to be in their custody?"

"Would I? Not really, in the same way I wouldn't want to watch my best friend get shot in the head, or made to believe that I'm watching my best friend get shot in the head."

"I had no intention of hurting her, I promise."

"Uh huh. Your word's as good right now as mine was seven months ago. Carrots, make the call," he said, turning around.

 _Ten seconds, Jack. Make them count._

"What's the MBI number again?" she asked

 _Cheap handcuffs, might as well be plastic. Easy to slip out of._

"Let me check...555-0281."

 _Under the legs, bingo._

"Thanks." She dialed the number as my paws slipped through the flimsy metal.

"Hello, MBI? Officer Judy Hopps here, ZPD. We have a suspected international criminal here in our custody, and we thought it best to notify you—"

 _What have they got for me? Let's see...pop the button on the holster and draw on her before she knows what's going on. Get her off the phone. Buy time. Already out of time. But the fox might attack if I put a gun to her head. Hm...I'd rather fight a distracted rabbit driver than a pissed off fox. Scratch that, I'll use his gun and threaten him instead._

They were oblivious to the fact I was out of my cuffs now. They didn't expect it at all. I gently tapped her with my elbow as she was mid-sentence, and she casually turned her head to see me pointing the fox's gun at his head, having grabbed it through the cell-like divider—my size does come in handy at times. I didn't have to tell her what I wanted. She didn't have to tell me that she was going to comply. Eyes speak volumes.

"—that he's probably going to get released real soon. He, uh, we didn't Mirandize him. I tell you what, I really shouldn't have called this early, it's late and I jumped the gun. I'll have Chief Bogo call you. Goodbye." And she hung up.

"I assure you, I didn't want to resort to this."

"Please, don't hurt him."

"I don't _want_ to hurt him," she whimpered weakly, as if utterly defeated. There were tears welling up in her eyes. My heart damn near broke seeing it, but I had to keep my stiff upper lip. But by God, I felt like a massive arsehole.

"Just, hey, don't cry. Everyone's gonna go home safe and sound tonight. Okay? Just keep driving, you're doing great thus far, just keep driving."

"Where do you want us to go? I'll take us anywhere!"

"Same destination that I presume you had in mind earlier. City center precinct HQ."

The fox's eyes widened. "Why the hell do you want to go to our headquarters? What the hell are you planning?"

"I told you, I'm working with Bogo. He'll be there, yes?"

"I don't know."

"Get him on the phone. In the meantime, fox, I'm going to not point this at your head. And I expect I won't come to regret this, understand?"

"I don't see what this changes. You can still shoot me."

"I—look, I get that I've caused you two a lot of grief tonight. And I'm sorry about that, I really am. But you don't understand. There's something _very bad_ happening right now and I'm trying to stop it."

He growled slightly. "Okay."

"And if you called the MBI, this would exacerbate the problem. Bogo and I will explain more later. For now, please, call him, let him know we're headed to the station. And please, make sure this doesn't spread around. Two officers knowing is bad enough."

The fox took out his radio. "Dispatch, this is Officer Wilde—"

 _A fox named Wilde. Now, where have you seen that before, Jack?_

What of it? It's a common surname for their kind.

 _Mm-hmm...isn't it funny how things come full circle so quickly?_

"—here, is Chief Bogo in the station right now?"

"He is, and he's almost panicking over this whole thing. Where is the suspect, and what the hell is going on?"

"He's here, we're on the way. Make sure Chief knows."

"Roger that, Officer."

 _You should ask him._

He's got enough excitement in store for one night.

 _If he's who you think he is—_

I don't think that's who he is.

 _—_ _then you owe him an answer._

We have bigger fish to fry.

 _Look at him. He knows. The way he was looking at you earlier, he was trying to remember. And yet, he doesn't know. Nobody gave him the answers he deserves._

There wouldn't be anything to remember. Nor any good done by revealing whatever remains hidden.

"Bogo's gonna be there, Savage."

"Excellent." I slipped his pistol back through the divider. "This belongs to you, Officer." I could tell Judy was a bit more at ease now. "I understand if you don't want to return mine at this particular moment."

They said nothing. I don't think they knew what there was _to_ say. It was the most awkward experience I'd had since Sally Lepton invited me over for tea in year ten, which was only awkward because neither of us had been there for the tea, so to speak, but all we had the courage to do was drink the tea in silence. It was fairly mediocre tea, too, as if to add insult to injury.

Eventually, we reached the station. When we entered the building, Bogo was waiting just inside, alone.

"Hopps. Wilde."

"Chief," they replied sheepishly, unsure of what they should be feeling right now.

"I want you two to come to my office for a full and thorough debriefing."

"Yes sir."

"Agent Savage, if you'd be so kind as to join us..."

"Naturally, sir."

We went up to his office. By now it was two in the bloody morning, and Bogo looked like he was on the brink of collapse. The night's events had clearly managed to take quite the toll on him. The two of them carefully recounted the night's events, and he listened politely—but he was more than a tad bit upset by the sound of it. By the time they got to the warehouse, he couldn't contain it anymore.

"Well! You've managed to mess things up quite spectacularly. Bravo."

They looked confused. "Sir, we were just chasing what we thought was a criminal. He _did_ almost shoot me in the head."

Bogo glared at me. "I missed on purpose!" I hastily responded.

"Not you two! Our guest. This whole thing has gotten out of hand, Savage. You haven't been in this city for twenty-four hours, and you manage to drive dangerously, almost kill one of my star officers, cause a massive scene and lose your target. You're lucky the MBI doesn't know anything of this—"

"Actually, sir, they...might know something. I may or may not have called them to warn them of a dangerous foreign criminal in the city that we'd apprehended," Hopps said meekly.

Bogo's eyes wet wide and his mouth went agape. "And what did you tell them about this foreign criminal?"

"Nothing, sir. He, ah, convinced me not to give them more info, so I told him we didn't Mirandize him correctly and that they should call you in the morning."

"And how did this silver-tongued devil do that, Officer?"

"By...slipping out of his cuffs and pulling Nick's gun on him."

"From the back of the patrol car?"

"Yeahhhh..."

Bogo sighed. "Alright. I've heard enough."

"I assure you, Chief, I wasn't intending to—"

"That's enough, Mr. Savage. We called you in here because you've got the most experience with this Nikolai fellow. But it's patently obvious to me that all you're capable of doing right now is wreaking havoc."

I sighed. "Sir, I do apologize for this evening. It won't be happening again."

"You're damn right it won't. Because these two are going to stick with you to make sure it doesn't happen again. You'll be taking the assistance I offered earlier—these two will be providing it—and I won't be taking no for an answer."

They looked shocked. "Wait a second, Chief, you're telling me I'm this guy's new supervisor?" Nick asked, a devilish grin forming on his face. "His handler?"

"Absolutely not, Wilde. You're going to assist this fellow on his mission, and most importantly, keep the rest of the force off his back to the best of your ability."

"Sir," I interjected, "I do appreciate the offer, but I must insist. I work alone."

"I'm not taking any more chances, Savage."

"Why us?" Wilde exclaimed. "We've been pointing guns at each other all night, and you want us to just...flip the switch like that?"

"Because this has to stay as quiet as possible, and you two already know too much for me to just let you waltz out of here. And you know that as well, Savage. Like it or not, they're in this now, too."

I sighed. "You're right, Chief."

"You don't sound too happy to have us around," Judy said, a bit offended.

"Hey, if he doesn't want us, I say we leave him to his mission and go on our merry way."

"It's not you two. I'm...set in my ways." I turned to look at them. "It's a bit tough for me to take on new partners at the drop of a hat. If you're with me, I'm responsible for your life...I'm sure it's hardly any different between the two of you?"

They looked at each other, then back at me. "No," Judy said, "it's not different."

"It's just a heavy weight to carry. One that I've...dropped before." I looked to the floor as Judy gasped quietly, before covering her mouth quickly. "And I _won't_ drop it again. Sometimes it's just easier to not carry it at all." I looked back at them.

"Savage, I'm begging you, take them, you need them," Bogo pleaded. "If you mess this case up, it's game over for all of us—"

I sighed. He had a point.

"Woah, woah, woah, hold on," Nick interjected. "Game over for all of us? Just what the hell is going on here?"

I looked at Nick, then at Judy. They managed to capture me, after all; maybe they'd be helpful. Just because I was operating outside of the confines of the law this time, it might still be good to have the illusion of legal power.

"Should I take it from the top, Chief?"

"Absolutely."

"Alright. Well...for starters, my name is Jackson Savage, MI6. But you knew that."

They were stunned. I suppose we had more name recognition here than I expected.

"Approximately three months ago, there was a break-in at the National Institute for Medical Research; the thieves stole samples of several extremely dangerous viral and bacterial agents, somehow without releasing a single virus or bacterium, or exposing the outside world in any way. You'll find no record of this; SIS ordered that there be no mention of it in the media.

"Two weeks ago, we received reports that a ship delivering three Scorpion-class missiles was lost at sea as they were being delivered from the suppliers to the Royal Navy. The weather was clear, and we received no distress calls of any sort from the ship. It just vanished into thin air. Again, this was never reported, because the Scorpion program is entirely classified. The Scorpion is an experimental surface-to-surface missile with a range of 5,500 miles warhead capable of delivering any biological agent desired over a three-mile radius from the impact site.

"Wait a second, can I ask a question? Please?" Nick asked, in a voice that could have only been an imitation of an overly-polite schoolgirl.

"By all means."

"It's just, oh, I dunno... _why the hell are you guys making that?_ "

"Truth be told, Mr. Wilde, I don't agree with it either. I find it morally reprehensible. But they say that we need to be ready for everything. Again, I disagree. Nothing on the horizon appears to suggest that we'd need biological weapons, much less a sophisticated missile that delivers them. However, this isn't about the wisdom—or the lack thereof—of the Contingency Operations Board."

"Someone stole the missiles," Judy said. "There's no other solution."

"Exactly. Four days ago, MI6 received a picture of the three missiles with the words "locked and loaded" written on it; an empty vial of the sort used at the Institute was in the background. Handwriting and fingerprint analysis linked the image to a suspected arms dealer, Nikolai Androdin. Two days ago—or was it three? Maybe it was one? The fact that it's this early in the morning complicates the number, but in any case, we executed an attempt to apprehend Nikolai at his usual watering hole; two MI6 agents sent to lure him out into the open were killed, I and my partner, Agent Howlton, were involved in a shootout, and he fled here. And about twenty-three hours ago, I landed here. The warehouse where you found me was the hideout of a Mr. Furman, who, according to intercepted communications, knows something about the fellow who bought the weapons."

"This makes no sense. Why would Nikolai send you that picture?"

"He's known for taunting his enemies. Probably thought we'd never get to him in time, and he was somewhat correct. In any case, we have every reason to believe that the missiles are here in Zootopia with Nikolai. He's most likely going to supervise the sale personally. And we need to identify the buyer and find Nikolai before the buyer decides to use his new toys."

"And how do we know that this sale isn't already underway, or that it hasn't already happened and we're about to all die a horrible death?"

"That's just it," I sighed. "We don't know that. For all we know, those missiles could be set off at any moment if this fellow has a launcher. Or perhaps he's planning to just use the warheads themselves as explosives."

"Is that even possible?"

"For someone with the resources that this buyer has? I don't know. Most likely. Worst case scenario here, millions across the city die before I finish this sentence. Best case, we recover the weapons before the sale."

"We need to call the MBI. This is their sort of thing, right?"

"There's no time. MBI and MI6 don't play well together. They'd take over the case and essentially start from scratch, they'd mess it up and millions would die. We've got the mammals in this room and most of the ZIA. That's it."

"Does the ZIA even have jurisdiction? They're not a domestic agency."

"I don't have jurisdiction here. If we left it to the proper channels, it'd be a tragedy. That's the main reason I need you...you're detectives investigating a small-time arms dealer, is all. One you don't know is an international trafficker. One you don't know is selling biological weapons. And I'm an informant who claims to know him from years back. Who you don't know is a foreign agent on a mission."

"But...we called the MBI."

"And you see why I was so keen to avoid them. They'd have taken over the case, locked me up for twenty years, and gotten everybody killed."

They gulped. "We...we messed up, didn't we? Not to mention that Furman got away..."

"Not necessarily. Bogo, tell the media that a burglar was caught red-handed in front of the warehouse. If my memory serves me correctly, the intelligence we have on the building shows that the current occupants are actually squatters. Thus, there were no "owners" to notify, so it was left as is. If the story makes the 6:00 news, perhaps it'll calm Furman down a little. Then, we track him down again and this time, we get every bit of information out of him that we can."

"I'll do that," Bogo said, heading to his computer.

"And now, with any luck, your intervention was just a minor delay. Nothing more," I smiled. I knew they didn't particularly like me at the moment, and frankly, I didn't blame them one bit. Might as well try to be friendly if I was going to be working with them. "Bogo, I presume that my vehicle's in ZPD custody right now?"

"I believe so."

"I'll be needing that back, along with three carbine rifles, a sniper rifle, flash-bang grenades, and three bulletproof vests. Also...do either of you own any formal dress?"

"I'm always dressed up," Nick said.

Judy rolled her eyes. "You wear Hawaiian shirts with a tie."

"And it is a _very_ nice tie, Carrots."

I shook my head. "Get this fox a tux and a suit. And her a gown."

"Why?" Bogo asked.

"Very rarely will we be in a situation that allows two uniformed officers to be present. So they'll be in civilian clothing, under the guise of being undercover officers by your direct orders."

"But we own normal clothes," Nick interjected.

"We may have to infiltrate a formal event of some sort. Especially given the fact that our ultimate targets are very wealthy and powerful mammals. It's best to be ready...actually, cancel that, Bogo. Send their measurements and information to MI6. Tell them standard issue armored formal wear, express shipping on my expense report."

"I'll get it in."

I looked at the clock. 2:30 AM, it'd be three by the time I was able to actually sleep. Oy.

"And on that note, I think it's best if we retire for the evening. Chief Bogo, once again, my sincerest apologies for the events of tonight...and my apologies to you both as well. I had no intention of harming either of you, truly...you do understand, I hope, why I had to do what I've done. And tomorrow morning, I'd like to start fresh. There's a café two blocks east of here where I'd like to meet at ten-thirty."

They nodded. "Clawhauser says their donuts are good," Judy said.

"He'd know," Nick added.

"Excellent! Then I'll see you both then. And on that note...I'm about to pass out. I'll be on my way then...Bogo, where are my keys?"

"Evidence locker. Car should be in the garage underground."

"Jolly good. Until tomorrow."

 **6:15 AM**

The phone rang. "Savage," I answered groggily.

"Bogo here. ZNN ate the burglar story up."

"Excellent. What's the word on the suits?"

"Should be here in three days. I'll deliver them to their homes directly."

"And the weapons?"

"I'll see if Hopps and Wilde can pick them up from the station. I understand that you're naturally wanting to avoid the station..."

"Can't risk being recognized."

"Of course."

"What can you tell me about them?"

"Hopps and Wilde?"

"Their personalities. Their lives. What makes them tick, anything you've got."

"Well...Hopps, she's the first rabbit on our force. Willpower like I've never seen in my life. Very...optimistic. Has damn near three hundred siblings, I don't know how common that is with you lot..."

"I have twenty. My family's the smallest back home."

"I see."

"And Wilde?"

"He's an ex-con man who knows everyone, and either worked with them or screwed them over at some point. Usually both. Slick, smug, sly, every negative stereotype you've heard, but he's not a bad guy. He's the first fox on our force."

"Trendsetters, the two of them. What do you know about, ah, his family?"

"His mother's rather old, lives alone somewhere in a swanky part of town, which has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Wilde doesn't have millions in untaxed income squirreled away."

"I see. And the father?"

"In and out for the first eleven or so years, gone after."

"What happened?"

"Skipped out, as far as I'm aware. That's all anybody knows."

"I see. Thank you. Is there anything else?"

"The ZIA chief let me know that he wanted you to call him as soon as possible. They have a black site in town that you can use for any...loose ends that need tying up. He's a leopard by the name of Matthias Chekir."

"I'll be calling him soon. Thank you, Chief."

 _It's him._

It's not him.

 _How long are you going to deny this, Jack?_

There's nothing to deny.


	4. Question Time

(A/N: Alright...sorry about how long this one took! I've been settling into a new job, so things have been a little busy, but the story is alive and well! Special thanks to Kohgeek and Mordecool1039 for helping me with proofreading and editing; this would've been a lot messier without them.)

The ZIA chief was a helpful fellow, just as much as Bogo, if not more. In the course of a single phone call, I'd gotten promises of a rapid response team for any raids that needed firepower, use of a black site just outside the city limits, and access to federal intelligence databanks, as well as any public CCTV system in the country. Absolutely beautiful. By checking DMV records, traffic cameras, license plate scanner databanks and the property records of all his known associates and family, I was able to determine Furman's most likely location: a small flat in Happytown. With a name like that, I knew this place wouldn't be fun to visit, but luckily, he was apparently headed to the countryside later in the evening.

Having quickly swung by the local field office to give the ZIA the ledger and hard drive for analysis, I drove up to the café, parked, and glanced at a clock behind the hostesses' stand. 10:15 AM. "Table for three, please," I asked the hostess, nervous about the way this meeting would go. The table was a nice little place on the patio; the sun was shining overhead but not burning the ground below it. The commotion of daily life was ongoing around the café, a serene oasis of calm in a desert of hustle and motion. And I was still anxious.

 _It doesn't matter if they like you. Or if you like them._

It'll make this case go a lot more smoothly...and it'll make this a more pleasant time.

 _You're projecting again._

What? No, I'm not.

 _She's the first rabbit on the police force. You see yourself in her. The daughter you never had, the daughter you never could have.._

She's not _that_ young. Or maybe I'm not _that_ old. Regardless, I...admire the tenacity it took, yes. Certainly, we've seen similar—

 _And you know damn well who the fox reminds you of._

There's no connection.

 _But you know there is. And you see the two as one, because he picks up where John dropped off, same as you picked up where your father did. You want to protect him now, because you couldn't save him then._

He has nothing to do with John. There's not any connection.

 _How can you know that?_

There—there isn't! There's not a bloody connection! It's a coincidence, and a bloody large one at that, yes, but he is not—he cannot be—the—

"Mr. Savage?"

XXXXXXX

"Does this feel weird to you, Nick?"

"What, having tea and crumpets with a guy who had a gun to my head not even twelve hours ago? Reminds me of Fru Fru's wedding in a weird way, if we're being honest."

"This guy just makes my head hurt, it's so...confusing. He's one of the good guys. But he's just...shifty, you know? Something's off about him, he's got to be hiding something."

"He's a secret agent. Of course he's hiding something. We're pawns in a big game, and I don't like it one bit," he said.

"The question's if he's a pawn too."

"Maybe a knight or a bishop, if he's lucky."

"But at the same time, he's...cool."

Nick did a double-take. "Cool?"

"I dunno. I mean, here I was, working like crazy to become the first rabbit cop, and he's a rabbit spy!"

"Rabbits probably make good spies. Small, agile, it checks out," Nick said, dismissing the feat almost entirely, which was a bit annoying.

"Still, though. I wanna know how he did it."

"By being shifty and small and fast. There ya go, Carrots, problem solved," Nick huffed, seeming a bit agitated.

"You know what I mean. He's just...an enigma. Not to mention, that whole thing with you, you said you met him, remember?"

"I said I know him. Big difference," Nick replied, emphasizing the difference.

"Still. He's a unique fella, that's for sure."

XXXXXXX

They arrived together around 10:25, disembarking from a city bus just across the street. Curious. I smiled at them at waved them over; they were dressed as civilians. All the better.

"Ms. Hopps. Mr. Wilde. It's good to see you."

"Good to see you," Judy replied. Nick smiled and nodded.

The waitress arrived. "What can I get you three?"

"Carrot juice, please. And a glazed donut," Judy said pleasantly.

"I'll have a cappuccino with a glazed donut too."

"Earl Grey, splash of milk and spoonful of sugar, please. And I'll go with a glazed donut as well," I added.

"I'll have that right out," the waitress said as she shuffled off.

"Well! I should get right to the point. The ZIA's helped me determine where Furman ran off to—and more importantly, where his next stop is. We'll stake the route out, and when he passes by, we stop him, and we...render...him to a special site that the ZIA's provided us."

"What are we gonna do to this guy?" Judy asked, a note of horror tingeing her voice.

"We'll question him, and then keep him detained there until this whole thing's settled," I replied.

She breathed a sigh of relief; Nick knew exactly what I meant, and he glared at me for a bit. At that moment the waitress arrived with our breakfasts.

"Alright...carrot juice for you, cappuccino for you, sir, and...Earl Gray tea for you, sir," she said as she placed our meals before us.

"Thank you," we all said almost at once as she left.

XXXXXXX

Nick and I looked at each other as we sipped our drinks, and then at Jack. He sipped the tea, and briefly grimaced before regaining his composure and switching to the donut.

"Not as good as the stuff in England, is it?" Nick asked, a nervous laugh in his voice.

"I see now why you lot stick to coffee," Jack responded quietly, before cracking a smile. "Now...before we start, I feel it's only fair to warn you about what's ahead. I can't, in good conscience, allow you to walk through this door blindly."

"We know it's dangerous," I replied. "But we're gonna do what we have to do."

"This isn't a police case, just know that. The stakes are higher, the danger's greater, and the means we may be forced to resort to...may be more, shall we say, _extreme._ I need you to know that."

"We understand," Nick said. "We get it."

Jack smiled weakly. It was starting to seem that with him, a smile didn't usually mean happiness.

"If you come with me, you _will_ be forced to kill. Torture. Maim. You'll be complicit. If you come with me, you might not come back. If you come with me, you may be...what have I endured? Bullets, blades, torture, watching those you love die in front you?"

I gulped.

"Are you just trying to scare us, or what?" Nick asked angrily. "Look, we don't have a choice, okay? We die if we fail, we die if the mission doesn't get accomplished. So...please. Stop. We understand, this is going to be a dirty, brutal, shifty thing that'll follow us until we die. We know that."

"Bogo would never know if you didn't come along. I'm giving you an out. I'll lie to him for you. I'd rather go it alone than have anyone who was unwilling."

Nick gulped. "I have to do this."

"I do, too," I added.

Jack smiled. "Excellent. Now...Bogo has some suitcases for you at the station. My car...is in the lot across the street. You'll swing by the station, you'll grab them and then we'll be off. Any questions thus far?"

"What's in them?" I asked.

"Battle rifles, grenades, et cetera...you both know how to use those things, right?"

Nick and I looked at each other, and I could tell we were thinking the same thing. _Oh, shit, he's serious._

"I mean, when would we actually be using them? Not like we'd need them anytime soon, right?" Nick asked nervously.

"Fairly soon. But as I mentioned, today's going to be an interdiction and interrogation, so nothing too physically taxing...mentally taxing, though. Just know that. For now, pick up your gear from the station and I'll pick you up in, say, a half hour. We'll do range training later so you don't wind up shooting me in the arse. And don't worry about the check, with all the crap I'm about to drag you through, buying you breakfast is the least I can do."

We thanked him, and got up and started walking towards the station. Nick looked back to make sure he was out of earshot, then turned back to me.

"I _might_ shoot him in the ass," he whispered.

I laughed.

XXXXXXX

 _Your mask can't hold up forever._

I've got nothing to hide.

 _Oh? And if she gets hurt on this escapade?_

She's smart. She's tough. She'll be fine.

 _It's obvious you can't stand him. He's a danger to her, this mission is a danger to you all._

He's a bit of a tool, but he's not a bad guy. He'll protect us both.

 _He didn't protect anybody very well last time he came into your life._

That...no, no, I refuse to believe it. That _can't_ be him. I know him from someplace else.

 _You never forgave whoever it was that was responsible._

He wasn't...no, he wasn't a soldier. A commando, a spy, none of it, he was a drunk that vanished into the night.

 _You're scared of him, Wilde. He's the specter of loss, always has been, always will._

If that's the case, then I'll give this my all to get him out of my life as soon as possible. If it's not, then I have nothing to fear.

XXXXXXX

"Jack, you can't possibly bring those two on a mission like this."

"I know, it's dangerous, it's—"

"They'll never take part in such a thing!" Sarah exclaimed. "They're not trained, they're not operators, they're...well, they're coppers!"

"They're... strong enough." I looked out to the ZPD headquarters down the road.

"They could blow your cover to the press, too! It's a horrible idea."

"I need police escorts to pull anything off in this town. ZPD's everywhere and they've got a bloody good response time, if I say so myself. Better than Zootropolian Met, that's for damn sure."

"Well, I can't say the situation is ideal," she sighed.

"Nor can I. But they'll suffice."

"Are they at least pleasant to be around?"

"More than _someone_ I know," I laughed.

"Please. You'll be begging me to come over there in two days tops."

 _And you'd bloody well do it. I hope you would._

"At least I'd have someone who knows how to use a bloody rifle."

"Jack, Jack, Jack. What in the world have you gotten yourself into?" She said that a lot. In my mind, I could see her shaking her head in the MI6 office. She'd pick up that bobblehead of Gazelle she kept on her desk, and she'd fiddle with it, she'd scrape it ever so slightly with her claw while she tried to rationalize whatever boneheaded thing I'd just done.

"I didn't even mention the worst part of it all."

"What would that be?" She sounded concerned.

"The fox..." I took a deep breath. My foot started to tap against the brake pedal. A fox that I'd never seen before walked on the sidewalk, passing by the car, and he almost looked like him, but it was a passing resemblance. "The fox…"

"What about him, Jack?"

"Oh! Right...you remember, I told you about my first partner? A Yank agent named John?" _Tap, tap, tap._

"I remember. That's the reason you didn't want to return to Zootopia."

My foot was reaching a fever pitch. "I think the fox is...is John Wilde's son." And my foot was silent again.

I could almost see her jaw drop, the picture was crystal-clear in my mind. "Oh, Christ, Jack...does he know?"

"I don't think he does. He...I think he recognizes me. But he doesn't know...or he's keeping mum about it for now."

Her voice wasn't that of fearful concern anymore, but of tenderness. "Jack, you know John...John wouldn't have wanted you to beat yourself up over it. It wasn't your fault."

"How is it not? I was—bloody hell, I have to fetch them now."

"Alright, I'll let you go. Are you okay, Jack?"

"I'm alright. Take care, Sarah. I'll call soon."

"You take care too, Jack."

I hung up the phone. "I love you," I whispered softly into the phone, as if somehow she'd hear me. A wish I knew wouldn't come true, and yet I made it every time.

With that, I made the quick drive down the road to the station, where they were dutifully waiting by the fountain out in front, having some kind of light-hearted conversation by the looks on their faces. They saw me, looked at each other, and then approached the car; I unlocked the doors, they got in, and we were off in a flash.

"You'll find ski masks under your seats. You'll need them; being the ZPD's darlings, keeping anonymous will be critical," I said matter-of-factly.

"Where exactly are we going, anyway?" Nick asked.

"Right outside the city, towards the countryside. It'll be a stakeout."

"Oh, God," he groaned, seeming to dread being stuck in a car with me for hours.

"Unless you'd like to raid his flat in Happytown."

They gulped; I suppose my intuition was correct. "A stakeout is fine," they declared in unison.

There was a bit of awkward silence. As we soared down the motorway and the countryside grew upon the horizon, I decided now was the time to get to know them.

"So...you two live together, I presume?"

Their facial expressions told me that this was not the appropriate thing to do. Oops.

Nick's eyes widened. "I _told_ you he would spy on us!"

"So, that's a yes?" I sheepishly asked.

"No, I just crashed at his place last night. We were both exhausted and he normally makes sure I get home safe, but it was really far, so we just stayed there," Judy sputtered.

"I seeeee..."

"Not like that!" She was red in the face. "W-were you following us?"

"Not at all. You arrived together at the café, and given your closeness, I assumed."

"Oh."

"It's gonna take a while to get there. Got any music?" Nick interjected, hoping to change the subject. I gestured towards the power button, which he pressed.

 _ **WHEN BRITAIN FIIIRRRRRST AT HEAV'N'S COMMAAAAANDDDD**_

"Of course," Nick mumbled.

XXXXXXX

It was a mostly awkward silence after that, all the way to the stakeout point. We positioned the car just far enough off the road so that it was well-hidden to incoming traffic from the city without obstructing our view of the passing cars. It was an easy enough stakeout; the only problem I really had was when it was Jack's turn to pick the music. My songs? Some hip-hop, classic rock, and maybe the occasional bit of swing. Judy's? Country, pop, maybe some electric sometimes. His? British patriotic music _._ Those people have too many anthems, I think, and he hummed along loudly to each. Freaking. Song. At this point, I was just about praying for this Furman guy to hurry up and come along so we could kill him, or whatever it was that Jack had in mind for the poor bastard.

By the time we saw Furman's car, not only was it close to sunset, but I knew the solo to "Rule, Britannia!," and I mean, I could do it the _real_ way where you don't repeat "never" thirty-two times or whatever, because apparently there's a difference, because of _course_ there is, as Jack kept on reminding us.

When the car passed by, Jack zoomed back onto the road and towards it. I don't know how he knew it was the one, but something gave me the feeling that this wasn't his first time doing this. He raced down the highway going at least 80 miles an hour, quickly catching up to his target before pulling up beside him and slamming into his back left flank, sending him into a spin. Quick and efficient, if I were to say so myself.

A badger staggered out of the car, with murder in his eyes; Jack immediately stormed out of the car, punched him in the stomach, and threw him up against the hood of our car before Judy and I could even get out.

"Cuffs, hood, quick," he said. We held them up and he quickly got the badger subdued. "Name? What's your name?"

"What the fu—" the badger started to slur, stunned.

"You have one chance at this, tell me, _your. name._ " Jack fiercely stated, drawing his gun and pointing it at the back of the badger's head as he cocked the hammer back. Judy looked at me with concern.

"Furman! Adam Furman!" he sputtered out.

"Who's in the car?"

"Nobody, I—"

"Up, you little bastard!" Jack barked, yanking him up and leading him towards the trunk. He opened it, and ordered Furman in; he complied. He then motioned for us to get back in the car.

"And you said it wouldn't work," Jack smiled.

XXXXXXX

It was dark out by the time we got to the black site. The ZIA had an entire compound out here, close to the city's outskirts, hidden in plain sight. It looked to be an old sanatorium of some kind; from the road, the only clue to its existence was a sign on the main road reading "MULBERRY ROAD MENTAL HOSPITAL – CLOSED TO PUBLIC" and a lonely, winding road on our right that trailed through the empty countryside. We pulled up to the actual complex, which was guarded by an electric fence, barbed wire, guard towers and countless "no trespassing" signs. I showed the gate guard my ID, and we were on our way.

Judy and Nick were apprehensive-looking to say the least. I easily understood how such a place could creep a mammal out; it looked like the set of a horror film. Eerily clean, sterile even, even outside the building. For a fleeting second, I felt bad for Mr. Furman.

I parked the car out in front, where two ZIA agents came to help us get Mr. Furman out of the boot and into the questioning room. Nick and Judy stuck close to me—and each other—as we went inside. It was the stereotypical mental hospital, immaculately maintained (with the exception of some blood splatters on the wall every now and then), to the point that it was concerning. There were wailing inmates in the padded cells, whose screams came through the steel doors and resonated through the hallways, echoing, bouncing off the walls, hopeless, helpless. Even I hadn't seen anything like it; if there was one thing I knew, it was that ZIA didn't play games with black sites.

The agents led us to our workstation. They strapped him in a bottomless chair, his arms strapped onto the wide armrests and his legs chained to the chair's legs so as to be spread out; breaking an elbow, a knee, or something worse would be trivial. A bucket of water sat a meter away next to a flat slab-like table, and one of the agents stood by a sink.

The other stood by me. "We're almost done analyzing the evidence you brought in, sir. Do you need anything? Jumper cables, a weighted rope, a club...?"

"Okay, okay, hold up. Jack, can Judy and I have a word, please?" Nick interrupted.

"Of course." He, Judy and I stepped out of the room.

"This is insane," Nick said.

"Pardon?" I asked.

"This! This is insane, are we seriously about to torture this guy?"

"No, we're about to ask him some questions. If we don't get our answers, _then_ we'll...enhance the interrogations."

"That's torture," Nick said bluntly.

"I agree," Judy replied.

"I can't say I'm fond of the idea myself," I said, sighing. "But we've got the sword of Damocles hanging over millions of mammals' heads, okay? We have to get the information out of this fellow and get it _yesterday._ And I warned the two of you that this wasn't going to be pretty. That we'd have to do whatever it takes. Did I not?"

"Jack, this—this isn't like you!" Judy exclaimed. "You're not—"

"Ms. Hopps, if you really knew me you'd know not to hold me in such high esteem. This isn't my first cup of tea." I couldn't help but hang my head before bracing myself, deeply breathing in and out. "Now. We've got a job to do, so let's get this over with, shall we?"

XXXXXXX

My stomach was churning as we walked back into the room. Nick and Jack were both extremely tense; Jack felt as if he were dreading every step forward that he was about to have to take, and Nick was about to boil over with rage at the situation.

We got to Furman. Either he had no idea what was going to happen, or he was perfectly fine with it, because he didn't seem to be terribly afraid.

"Can we hurry this up? I'm getting a bit hungry," Furman snickered.

"You're awfully at ease, Mr. Furman," Jack said, looking off to the side.

"And you're fairly tense. You can't even look me in the eye. What's wrong?"

"Nothing yet," Jack replied. "Let's start with the basics. Your name is Adam Furman, yes?"

"I'd hope so, you've been calling me that this whole time. Hate to be caught up in some other guy's business." He was still snickering. Jack sighed.

"Alright. And now...Nikolai. You know Nikolai?"

"Yeah, I do."

"What about him?"

"Makes a mean pot of borscht. Sells fake Rolexes out of a rundown stand at the mall...oh, is that the wrong Nikolai?"

"Mr. Furman, I'd advise taking this seriously."

"Oh, this is very serious," Furman nodded in agreement. "Let's see, you're definitely not a cop, so that's a charge of...assault with a deadly weapon for ramming my car, kidnapping, false imprisonment...yep, it's serious, alright."

"Do you know where you are?" Nick interjected. "This isn't county lockup. This is a ZIA black site. Uncooperative prisoners get hurt here, Adam." His voice wasn't angry, but almost _pleading_ for him to cooperate, as if Nick was the one most afraid of what was going to happen.

"One last chance, Mr. Furman. Tell me everything you know about Nikolai, your connection to him, everything," Jack said.

"Or what? You'll kill your main lead to the suspect? Nah, I'm gonna need a shift in tone here first."

"That's it," Jack said, drawing his gun. He aimed for the badger's right kneecap; Furman's eyes widened as he realized how the stakes had risen, and as Jack fired, Nick elbowed Jack's arm from the side, causing the bullet to stray off course and graze his other leg instead; Furman yelped in pain, but the wound was as minor as possible under the circumstances.

"Mr. Wilde-" Jack began, with fire in his eyes.

"I'm not gonna let you do this," Nick declared. "Give me and Carrots here five minutes. _Please._ "

Jack looked at the badger, at me and then Nick. He sighed.

"Fine. You'll see that I'm not doing this because I _want_ to." And he stepped back. Nick and I sighed in relief.

"Alright, Adam. You can see we're not playing games here. Nobody else is. So I suggest you follow suit," I said.

"Alright, I'll take it seriously. You'll ask your questions, I'll refuse to answer, your buddy's gonna torture me until I die. That sound like a solid plan to you?"

"He's got a lot more tools than that gun," Nick replied.

"And if I cooperate, Nikolai's gonna use his on me. I'm screwed, buddy, alright, I'm beyond screwed. So go ahead. Whatever you do to me, it's better than what else is gonna happen."

"You're quite loyal to this Nikolai fellow," Nick said. "He pay well?"

"I mean, yeah, but it's not just loyalty. Like I said, he and his buddy are better at torture than you people ever will be."

"So bad you're willing to die to keep his secrets?"

"If I talk, it doesn't stop with my death," he said nervously. "I don't want to die. I don't wanna deal with whatever your buddy over there's got in mind, but-"

"Let me guess?" My nose twitched. "We can break you all night, all day, but Nikolai can hurt you in ways we can't."

Adam laughed.

"And that's because there's something more important that we don't have, is it?" I had him.

He stopped laughing. He actually looked concerned for the first time tonight.

"What's her name?" I asked.

He gulped, and hung his head. "Autumn. My daughter."

"What about the mother?"

"Dead. Postpartum depression."

"Oh...oh God. I'm so sorry."

"Nikolai provides well. He helped me keep the apartment after Yvonne died. But it's like he holds Autumn over me. Dangles her over the metaphorical cliff when I try to break free."

"He'll kill her?"

"Sell her." He gulped, scared of the very thought.

By this point, the look on Jack's face was that of the most bitter shame I'd ever seen in my life.

"Adam, do you know what Nikolai's gone and done?" Jack asked him calmly.

"Sold weapons to some shady guy, like he always does."

"Nikolai sold biological weapons capable of killing millions of mammals to an unknown target here in Zootopia." The badger's jaw dropped.

"Jesus Christ. I-my God, that can't be true. It can't."

"I've been tracking him for months now. It's true."

"You're lying." He turned his head to us. "He's gotta be lying. He...he isn't lying, is he?"

Nick and I shook our heads.

"Look, Adam, we're...well, we're authorized to do a lot of things, as I'm sure you've guessed," Nick said. "We can keep you and Autumn safe if you help us."

"I want to believe you. I want to trust you."

"We'll get her out of Happytown. Somewhere safer, under the ZPD's watch. We'll protect you both. I promise."

"I don't know a lot," Adam said.

"We need all the help we can get."

He took a deep breath. "Nikolai...he's, well, you know he's an arms dealer, obviously well connected. Said he was selling the haul of a lifetime, wouldn't tell anybody except his really high up guys."

"You're not a higher-up?" I asked.

He laughed. "I am. Just not a _really_ higher-up. That shows you how secretive he's being about it. Getting paid millions for this haul, three shipments coming from Britain. He's got them stored up in different locations ahead of the final sale, they're being conducted as three separate transactions. Why, I can't imagine. Probably wants to keep his eggs in different baskets. I only know that the first one's in an abandoned dock storage area, at...1502 Harbour Street, I believe, between Savannah Central and Canal Districts."

"How long's it been there?"

"Not long, and it's not gonna be staying long either. You have the rest of the night, if you're lucky. Where it's going, I have no idea."

"And do you know anything about the buyer?" Jack asked.

"All I know is, he's well connected. Insanely well connected, some kind of global cloak-and-dagger society's leader. Whatever it is that you're expecting to happen...just, assume that the worst is going to happen. I'm sorry, that's all I know."

"Last question. Where were you going tonight?"

"I was scouting out some motels outside of town. The raid on my place downtown scared the absolute hell out of me, I didn't want Autumn getting hurt if it happened again...was that your doing?"

Jack smiled sheepishly. "Surely you understand, given the circumstances-"

Adam sighed. "My daughter wasn't hurt, and that's what matters."

We had a team of Kit Protection Services officers go to retrieve Autumn, while we had an agent accompany Adam to their new home. Nick called Bogo to update him on the situation, and Bogo gave his approval for how things were progressing. We got into the car to race to the site where the first missile might be.

"Thank you. Both of you," Jack said as we got to the city limits.

"For what?" I asked.

"For stopping me earlier. I...I shouldn't have had to be stopped. Shouldn't have gotten to that point. So...thank you for that."

"It's no problem," Nick said.

"Yeah, not at all," I added. "Jack, can I ask you something?"

"By all means."

"If you hate the idea of torturing so much, why use it?"

"I can't afford to mess this one up," he replied. "I never use it in...frivolous cases."

"How often have you done it?" Nick asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Twice. Once when I was investigating a kit trafficking ring in Pawris. And once when I was tracking the mammal that killed-" He stopped for a second, as if choking up a bit.

"Killed who?" Nick asked with a bit more intensity than his earlier questions, as if there were another element to it, an unconscious one that they both detected.

"A good agent," Jack said. "I don't want to discuss it."

I nudged Nick. _Don't._

Nick cleared his throat. "So...what's the plan?"

"We find the site, we get as much intel as we can, and if we can stop this whole thing when we arrive...well, we take whatever chances arise."

I was nervous. What'd happened earlier, that was intense, but this was the real action coming up, and I hadn't even realized that I was almost entirely cuddled up against Nick, as if to try and escape the danger ahead, as if he could protect me. He didn't seem to notice either. Or maybe he just didn't mind. Jack...he was quiet. Pensive. From the rearview I could see his face, one of dread and hope mixed together. He looked back at us for a second. Nick was staring out the window. Jack and I locked eyes for a half second as I was buried in Nick's side.

Jack smiled at us, and for once, he looked almost... _happy_.


End file.
